Evidence that I am Harmless

In response to recent internet conversations, I feel a need to defend myself. I have not been accused of anything, but there have been questions about who I am...or am not. Let me give a little background information.

Since I have started blogging, I have made a lot of new friends. This online community I have become a part of has been very rewarding and was not what I expected when I started. My only intention was to write my little stories and I honestly did not know if anyone would ever read them. However, people have been reading and it has been a great experience.

Despite the fact that I have only met these people in the virtual world, I do consider many of them my friends. In fact, this summer I will be meeting in person Jen from "Jen" e sais quoi, since I will be in her city for a wedding. I am not trying to speak for Jen, but I assume she felt that she knew me well enough from my writing that it would be safe to meet and show me around the city. Then again, maybe she carries mace and a gun in her purse and just isn't too worried about me.

However, there is another blogger (Red from Doesn't Speak Klingon) that has been much more cautious. We have developed a mutual curiosity about each other and the idea has been proposed to meet. There are no actual plans being made, it is just an idea, but having never actually met me, Red has one major concern as can be seen in the comment section of one of her posts.

I do understand, but am hit with a dilemma. How does one prove that he is not an axe-murderer? I started with the person that may know me the best, my mother.

This morning's phone conversation:

MOM: Hello.

ME: Hey, Mom. I have a question for you.

MOM: What is it?

ME: Have I ever killed anyone with an axe?

MOM: What!? Do you mean, like, when you were younger?

ME: No. Any time.

MOM: With an axe? No.

ME: So, would you say that I am not an axe murderer?

MOM: I guess so, but I'm not with you all the time. I don't know what you do in your spare time.

ME: Please, help me out here, Mom!

MOM: Fine. To my knowledge you have never killed someone with an axe.

ME: Thank you, Mom. I will quote you on that. I love you.

Now that I had the good word of my mother (and who cannot trust a mother), I thought I would share a story. When I was about 20 years old, I was participating in a Halloween Haunted Hayride. A week before the event a few dozen of us were out chopping wood for the bonfires for the various scenes. I busied myself by throwing the split wood into a truck and assisting the others.

For story accuracy,
his was orange,
not red.

One man named Matt was using a large maul axe since he was splitting some rather large pieces. I was tossing the pieces he cut into the truck. Occasionally, the axe would stick in the wood and I would put my foot on it to steady it so he could pull it out.

One of those times it stuck and I used my foot just as I had before, but this time it was really stuck in there good and pulled the wood out from under me when he pulled the handle. So, trying to be of better assistance, I really leaned into it. I held it down and he gave the axe a wiggle and pulled up. This time it came out. It came straight up and hit me just over my right eye.

The blow threw me back and trying to catch my balance, I almost ran into the tailgate of the truck behind me. My brother caught me and saved me further injury.

Still bent over I removed my hands from my face and saw the blood pouring out of my head. It was like a faucet spewing out water. I wasn't in much pain, but remember thinking, "Wow! My face is probably really messed up."

A girl I didn't know approached me, said I needed stitches and put me in her truck. She drove me to her house and fixed me up in her bathroom. We then returned to the wood cutting, but they didn't make me work. In fact, they took turns making sure I didn't fall asleep. This is as good as it gets with redneck first aid. Within a few days, most of the right side of my face had swollen and turned black.

Today, I only have a small scar under my eyebrow, but you can feel where the bone was chipped (or broken). I really don't know since we never went to the hospital, but this is another reason I cannot be an axe murderer. I have been on the receiving end of an axe and know how they feel. I just can't do that to someone.

Further arguments:

No one wants to see this.
The economy has slumped so low,
this clown had to become a butcher.

1. One of my favorite shows is Dexter. The lead character may be a serial killer, but he only kills people that really deserve it and he has never used an axe.
2. Ask anyone in my family, I am not handy with tools. My kids rush in if I even pick up a screwdriver, because they are scared I might try to fix something.
3. The most grievous injury I have ever caused was to a kid in my youth group. He did have to have surgery, miss his senior trip and go to his graduation on crutches, but I did not hit him with anything.
4.  One of the reasons I don't like small children is because they are sticky. It is disgusting and I would imagine cleaning up the crime scene after killing someone with an axe could be pretty nasty. No thank you.
5. I was belted in Tae Kwon Do when I was an undergrad. He never trained us with weapons.
6. I have never even owned an axe.

I hope this extra knowledge about me will calm any other concerns she may have.  For those of you that know me personally, please feel free to vouch for me in the comment section of this blog. Comments on Facebook will not be seen by her.